The
Adventures of Billy Possum
Written
in mid-1987
Postscript added in 2011
Bomber and the Blue Max
By Bill J. Castenholz
Copyright 2012, Castenholz
and Sons
I got my first driver’s license the same year the Blue Max was built. One of the last of the great line of Chance-Vought Corsairs, the Blue Max was an F4U-7. Not much is known of the early years of the plane, but Bob Guilford purchased it in 1969. He had learned to fly Cessnas and the like, but wanted something more challenging. The Blue Max certainly was that!
I first saw the Blue Max when it flew over
my house one day. After that I must admit, there became a nearly constant vigil
on weekends, looking for the Corsair or its sister planes, the Cottonmouth, a
P-51 Mustang and a beautiful English Spitfire. The planes became known to us as
the Santa Monica Air Force.
The Blue Max. The Cottonmouth, a P-51 is just behind it.
The beginning of an exciting day.
Some
people think turning 50 years old means that things are all downhill from
there. Don’t you believe it! On my 51st birthday, several of my kids
got together and presented me with a certificate. It read:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD
Because we know of your love of
airplanes
(especially old ones) and
because
we love you, it is our
pleasure
to give this gift to you.
______________________________________
This
entitles Bill Joseph Castenholz to a
one half
hour ride in the plane of his
choice,
either the Mustang or the Corsair.
(We are
sorry, but the spitfire has only one
seat.)
This coupon is to be redeemed on the
day of
your convenience. Simply contact
Bob Guilford at his office.
______________________________________
We pray that 51 is the best year yet!
With love, your children,
Karen, John, Brenda and Jimmy.
“I think
everyone at home was tired of having Dad jump up and run out of the house every
time he heard that certain sound that only a Merlin or a big radial engine makes.
I was
thrilled – so much so that I didn’t call Bob Guilford for about a month. Just
thinking about what I had in store was so exciting I wanted to savor the idea
as long as I could.
But
arrangements were made, and one Saturday last august I met Bob at the airport.
Bob is an attorney with a passion for flying. Also, as I was about to find out,
he was a superb pilot. His control of the Corsair, a notoriously difficult
airplane to fly, was very impressive. This was not “Top Gun” but the serious
business of flying – fun, but with the caution that comes from knowing how fast
a plane can turn into a smoking hole in the ground.
The Blue
Max was awesome! It was not a small plane. And, as a Corsair, it would never be
confused with any other type of plane. The inverted gull wings, the rudder set
forward of the end of the fuselage, the long nose with the cockpit almost
behind the trailing edge of the wings, and a propeller that looked like it
belonged on the Spruce Goose. All this in a deep blue paint,
with the proper markings of MVF-214, the Black Sheep Squadron. As a
matter of fact, the Blue Max was one of the Corsairs used in the filming of the
TV series, Ba Ba Black
Sheep.
This photo looks like it could
have been taken on a south Pacific island in 1944.
It was thrilling to see the Blue Max rolled out onto
the tarmac. The Cottonmouth was also moved out of the hanger and I wasn’t sure which
plane I would get to fly in. I had decided some time ago just to let Bob decide
which plane he wanted to fly that day.
His choice was the Mustang. Secretly, I had
preferred to go in the Corsair, but who’s going to be disappointed with a ride
in a P-51! Bob said that flying up from San Diego the night before, the P-51
had lost a generator. The plan was to check it out before we used it. Bob
handed me a screwdriver and asked me if I would help take the cowling off the
left side of the Mustang. What would you say? I get a thrill just looking at
these planes and he wanted me to work on one. I grabbed the screwdriver and
started undoing the Dzus fasteners. With the panel
off one look showed that Cottonmouth wasn’t going anywhere until the generator
was replaced. “I guess we’ll have to take the Corsair,” Bob said. I remember
saying something to the effect of “I think I can deal with that.”
The door to the second seat is
just visible below the horizontal tail, at the bottom of the picture.
All Corsairs are one-seat fighters. There
isn’t room in the cockpit for anything but one person. But the Blue Max, like
many of the remaining Corsairs, had a jump seat installed immediately behind
the cockpit, in the interior of the fuselage. The portion of the bulkhead
supporting the headrest had been removed and two small Plexiglas windows were
installed on either side of the fuselage just behind the canopy. The visibility wasn’t great, but it was adequate.
Access to the jump seat was by way of a
small equipment door on the lower side of the fuselage, just large enough for a
person to fit through. Bob’s friend Judy helped me adjust the harness and the
intercom. The door was closed, and there we were.
If you have never sat behind 2300
horsepower, reading this won’t help. It was indescribable.
Typical of radial engines, when Bob started
the Blue Max’s engine, the oil in the lower cylinders made a big cloud of blue
smoke, but it quickly cleared and after a few minutes of checkout, we started
to taxi to the east end of the field. A hard thump now and then was caused by
the tail wheel as it bottomed out on some of the bumps.
When
we got near to the takeoff position we were behind a small craft, but the
control tower gave us priority so Bob moved around the other plane. There
wasn’t much room so Bob just raised the wings and went by.
I didn’t feel the bow draw back but I sure
felt the arrow leave the string. We were in the air before we passed mid-field.
Our take-off was low and quick.
Takeoff. The
main landing gear is up and only the right gear door remains to be closed.
I
suppose when we’re dropped into a world that’s unfamiliar to us, but one we’ve
looked forward to being in, we become acute observers. I noticed the large
shaft just below my feet. It was painted red. The entire control of the tail of
the plane was by way of that shaft. Rotation controlled one surface; movement
back and forth controlled the other surface. Judy had said “Keep your feet away
from that!” I did.
The inside of the fuselage was
interesting. Bulkheads spaced every foot or so were connected by little
stringers, and covered by a skin no thicker than a piece of cardboard.
“Where are we?” I asked. “Over the Ventura
Freeway, near Agoura.” Then a moment later Bob said “We’re in the acrobatic
area.” I thought to myself “Oh, really!” At that moment I realized that there
was more to this flight than I had imagined. Bob explained that we were going
to do an aileron roll. As the plane began to rotate on its axis, and I realized
I was upside down I again noticed the stringers inside the fuselage. My fingers
were making fingerprints in them as I attempted to prevent falling out of the
airplane! As things righted themselves, and the horizon looked normal again I
took a deep breath. But there was something fascinating about what we had just
done.
Then Bob said “Now we are going to do a
barrel roll to the left.” I saw the horizon begin to rotate. Again I tried to
hold on, but it was different. I guess the first time you are upside down in a
plane it is hard to know what to expect. The next time it isn’t so strange. As
we came out of the roll the G-forces made me feel sluggish. Then we did another
barrel roll to the right. I realized that in the second roll I didn’t feel like
I was going to fall. So I kept my eyes on the horizon. It was fantastic to see
the ground, the horizon, level but with all the earth above the horizon! After
the third roll my stomach said stop. The rest of me said “go for it.” Well I
told Bob my stomach was quezzy, and we headed for
home. As we approached the Pacific Palisades, I asked if we could fly over my
house and it was fun to see from the air the streets we have known for a
quarter century from the ground.
Another observation I made was how very
stable the Blue Max was. Being a heavy, high-powered plane, with high wing
loading, the Corsair felt like it was rigidly mounted in the air. The only
roughness I felt on the entire flight was when we began our landing approach to
the airport. Later I realized it was when the landing gear was extended. The
landing was very smooth, and a great adventure was over.
Up close the Corsair is an
awesome piece of machinery!
My son John and I loitered around the
hanger for a while, took some pictures and then drove
home in Bomber. What a contrast – from 46 horsepower to 2300 horsepower and
back to 46. My arithmetic says that’s a factor of 50! Well, Bomber can’t fly.
But it’s still a great way to get around. Oh yes, Bomber is my 1929 Chevrolet
sedan. It is the first model of Chevrolet to use the overhead straight-six
which was to become the mainstay engine of the Chevrolet Motor Car Company
until well into the 1950’s.
When I got home my wife and son Daniel
were working in the yard. “Did you see us?” “Yes,” they said. Mom had kept
asking Daniel, every time she heard a plane, “Is that
Dad?” Daniel, without even looking up would answer “No.” Then, before Mom even
heard the Blue Max, Daniel said “Here they come.” “How do you know?” “Mom,
nothing else sounds like that!”
Since last August I have gone to the
airport several times just to look at the planes in the hanger. On one occasion
Mike and I asked if we could walk through the hanger. On leaving I said
“Thanks, we had a great flight.” The attendant responded “A fantasy flight?”
I’m not sure if it was or not.
Bomber and the Blue Max – two
great machines!
About a week ago the Blue Max went on its
last flight. After an air show in San Diego, a friend of Bob’s borrowed the
Blue Max and took a woman who had helped with the air show for a flight – sort
of a reward for her help. Observers said the Blue Max was inverted, in a roll,
when it struck the ground. Both occupants were killed and the Corsair was
completely destroyed.
Postscript: About a year ago now, sometime in 2010, I asked David Price “How is Bob Guilford doing?” “Oh,” David said, “He’s dead. His airplane crashed and he died.”
Flying in these vintage war birds is a
dangerous business.